The Blind Detective
by Islet101
Summary: A collection of chronological Sherlock x Molly moments, most of them being one-shots, some are coherent chapters. Basic storyline sticks to canon but with the addition of my own wishful (Sherlolly-)thinking. Slow burn. *Warning: contains spoilers for Season 2 and 3*
1. Patience

**The start of a collection of Sherlo****ck x Mo****lly moments based on the BBC series 'Sherlock'****. I love this show and ****have great respect for the creators and actors, ****I hope you'll enjoy reading****.**

__**Disclaimer: **____**_My fan fictions are not written for profit and no copyright infringement is intended. _I do not own **__**__'Sherlock Holmes',__****__ '__****__Sherlock__****__' or any of the characters.__**

__A/N: This takes place between '___The Reichenbach Fall__' and '__The Empty Hearse__'._

**Patience**

Sherlock and Molly silently stood in her living room, facing each other.

Countless thoughts crossed her mind. 'He will leave the country...dismantle Moriarty's network...how long will it take...it will be dangerous...what if he gets hurt? No, it's Sherlock, he will be alright...but it's really dangerous...what if...?' Despair was written all over her face.

'I still have preparations to make, I don't know how long I'll be abroad,' he stated, motionless, his hands in his coat pockets.

Molly took a deep breath and slowly approached him.

'But...just this once...I...,' she swallowed, unable to finish the sentence.

She closed her eyes before she suddenly raised herself on tiptoes and pressed her lips against his.

Sherlock's eyebrows raised in shock but he didn't move. He started to frown and just looked down at her face with his hands still in his coat pockets.

When she moved her face away from his, she slowly opened her eyes but instantly gazed down to the floor.

A short and dry 'Hm.' escaped from his lips. He still didn't move but his eyes were fixed on her.

'I'm sorry,' she whispered, still staring at the floor. 'I should-'

She suddenly looked up as he took a step towards her and carefully grabbed her wrist. 'Increased pulse,' he calmly stated and then looked into her eyes, 'dilated pupils, too.'

Unable to endure his intense gaze, Molly looked down at her wrist in his hand.

'And...goosebumps,' Sherlock raised his eyebrows in surprise. 'Are you cold?'

She couldn't help but smirk. She kept her head lowered so he wouldn't see her reaction. 'No, that's...that's because of...your touch,' she shyly whispered and loosened her wrist from his grip.

'But my hands are not cold.' Now he seemed to be confused.

She had to smirk again. Despite his genius and deduction skills, he was still blind to certain human reactions – caused by emotions he had not experienced himself. She hated herself for finding him adorable when he's clueless. 'Luckily that hardly happens,' she thought to herself.

'Well, I...um...maybe you should g-go now, I mean...you still have a lot to prepare, don't you?'

He seemed puzzled for a very short moment but quickly recovered his mind. 'Yes,' he just replied and went past her to towards the front door.

'Please be careful,' she calmly said.

He suddenly froze. 'Molly?'

'Yes?'

'Did I...,' he paused, '...hurt you?'

Her mouth formed a light smile. 'No,' she replied but her eyes started to fill with tears.

'Good.' He continued to approach the front door. When he reached for the knob he turned his face to hers. 'It never was, never is and never will be my intention to hurt you in any way.'

She now smiled brightly at him, one single tear falling from her cheek.

'I know I'm blind to certain things. You'll have to be patient with me, Molly Hooper,' he said with a half-smile before he finally went out the door.

'I will, Sherlock Holmes.'

**Thanks for reading!**


	2. I know

**Hello again and thank you for reading, following and reviewing, I feel honoured by your interest in this story!**

_A/N: This is settled in the events of 'The Empty Hearse' after Sherlock had just returned. I hope you'll enjoy!_

**I ****know**

Molly Hooper could feel the pain in her shoulder, it has been a long day at St. Barts. But she didn't mind working late, it kept her busy, hence distracted from thinking about _him _all day.

As soon as she had opened her locker, she winced at a reflection in the locker's mirror which wasn't her own. Her heart skipped a beat - she didn't dare to turn around, afraid she could be dreaming or fantasising. Maybe all the hard work and lack of sleep had finally gotten to her.

'Molly?'

She took a deep breath. How she had missed the sound of his soft baritone voice. Could this be real?

'Molly, won't you look at me?' Sherlock asked softly, standing only a few steps behind her with his hands folded behind his back.

'But I...I am looking at you.'

'No, you're looking at my reflection.'

'Smart ass,' she hissed but her hand instantly covered her mouth when she realized she said that out loud.

'Hm. You must have spent too much time with John during my absence,' he dryly stated.

'Sorry, I...it's just...you just appear here out of nowhere. It...it's been almost two years.' Her eyes started tearing up, she couldn't hold it any longer.

'I know.'

'I wish I had...heard from you once in a while. Just...just to know you're doing well.'

As he approached her, she finally turned around, his face so close now that it caused her heart to skip another beat.

'I'm sorry,' he started as tears streamed down her face, 'but I could not risk being discovered.'

'Of course, I know that,' she said ashamedly. 'I just don't know why I'm having such foolish thoughts sometimes.'

His hand suddenly reached from behind his back to her face, his thumb softly wiping off a tear from her cheek. 'It's alright, Molly.'

She lightly winced at his touch.

'What's wrong?'

'Nothing. It's just...,' she blushed and suddenly fell round his neck.

Sherlock frowned in astonishment but after a few seconds he hesitantly wrapped his arms around her waist.

She started to shiver, unable to believe she was in his arms right now.

'Are you cold?'

She sighed against his shoulder. 'No.'

'You've lost three pounds since I last saw you.'

'Three and a half.'

'Mm, three.'

She smiled and gently stroke his neck which made _him_ shiver now, just for a second. 'Are you cold?' she smirked.

'N-no, certainly not.'

'Yes, I know.'

**Thanks for reading.**


	3. Next to me

**Hello and thanks again to all readers, followers and reviewers, you are precious! And special thanks to SammyKatz, your reference to Han was very true, that made my day!**

_A/N: Still settled in the events of 'The Empty Hearse'. Not too much excitement ahead in this chapter though, really just some detail-adding. But I hope you'll enjoy._

**Next to me**

Sherlock was staring out at Baker Street through the window of his living room as he heard footsteps ascending from the staircase.

'You wanted to see me?' Molly asked from behind his back.

'Yes!' He turned around, shoving his hands into the pockets of his robe as he slowly approached her. 'Molly?'

'Yes.'

'I was wondering if you'd like to...,' he paused, 'solve crimes.'

'Have dinner,' she blurted out simultaneously.

They both narrowed their eyes at each other.

'Mm,' she sighed.

He frowned in confusion. 'Dinner? In which way would a plate of food show my appreciation?' he whispered to himself, hardly audible.

'What?'

'Nothing. Well,' he cleared his throat, 'would you like to solve crimes with me today?'

'Really?' she smiled.

'That is if you're schedule is free.'

'Yes, I'd love to,' her smile grew bigger.

'Splendid.' He clapped his hands. 'Feel free to take off, I'll be right back. The first clients must be here soon.' That said, he resorted to his bedroom.

Molly, still a bit puzzled but happy, took off her jacket and scarf, carefully placing them on the chair opposite to Sherlock's armchair.

When he walked back into the living room, his robe exchanged by a black jacket matching his pants, he perplexedly looked at her jacket.

'What? What is it?' she asked

'This chair is for the clients. Yours is this one, you belong next to me, obviously,' he pointed at the chair to the left of his armchair.

Although well aware that it wasn't meant metaphoric, she liked hearing those words. She blushed and put her belongings on the indicated chair as there suddenly was knock on the door.

'Mr Holmes,' a man greeted Sherlock as he opened the door, 'glad you have time for me and my wife.'

'Do come in,' he replied and led the couple to the _clients_ chair where the woman took a seat. When Molly offered to get another chair from the kitchen, the man waved off, 'Thanks' I'll be fine.'

As Molly sat down again, Sherlock went past her to be seated in his armchair.

'Are you sure about this?' she asked him.

'Absolutely,' he genuinely replied.

'Should I be taking notes?'

'If it makes you feel better.'

'It's just that's what John says he does, so if I'm being John-'

'You're not being John, you're being yourself,' he calmly stated.

Molly proudly beamed at him before turning her face towards the new clients – unable to see the warm, appreciating smile Sherlock darted at her.

**Thanks for reading.**


	4. Deductions

**Hello precious readers &amp; followers, I can't thank you enough for sticking with the silly little nonsense I come up with. And thanks of course to all reviewers, you are just lovely!**

_A/N: Still settled in the events of 'The Empty Hearse', directly after the last chapter. I hope you'll enjoy!_

**Deductions**

Sherlock quietly sat in his armchair, taking a sip from his teacup. He needed a break from all those boring clients who had walked in. 'Sorry, Molly,' he suddenly said.

'Hm? Sorry for what?' she asked as she looked up from her notes.

'For not having an interesting case for you.'

'Oh...n-no, it's fine, it was great to witness you doing deductions, it's always fascinating. And the day's not over yet, maybe Greg still got something up his sleeve.'

'Who?' He raised a brow before he took another sip of his tea.

'Gre-...um,' she sighed and looked back down at her notes, 'Lestrade.'

'Oh. Right.' He turned his head away but still glanced at her from the corners of his eyes for a moment. 'Well,' he started as he put the teacup aside and got up from his chair, 'I certainly hope so.'

Molly's eyes followed him pacing up and down before he stopped to look at the pictures and notes pinned to the wall above the couch.

'Don't worry,' she suddenly said.

He steepled his hands underneath his chin without turning his gaze from the wall. 'Why should I be worried?'

'You had a fight with John, didn't you? Otherwise _he _would be here with you right now. Well, the last two years were really hard for him and...knowing you, you probably just casually appeared in a most inappropriate moment to let him know you're actually not dead,' she couldn't help but smirk.

Sherlock lowered his hands and folded them behind his back.

'Naturally he's hurt and confused right now but I know he will forgive you. Everything will be fine,' she calmly stated.

A certain memory suddenly struck his mind. _'You look sad...when you think he can't see you. Are you okay? And don't just say you are because I know what that means, looking sad when you think no one can see you.'_

His silence started to worry her. 'Sorry, I shouldn't have-'

'Fascinating,' he whispered.

'Sorry, what?'

'Witnessing _you_ doing deductions is also quite fascinating, Molly Hooper.'

'I didn't exactly-'

'However, this time you were wrong about _one_ thing.' He turned his head over his shoulder to face her.

She blushed when she met his intense gaze.

'Even if John wouldn't be mad at me, you would still be here right now. I _wanted_ you to be here today.'

Just when a warm, yet somehow shy smile spread on his face, her heart melted a little.

When Molly finally forced her attention back to her notes, Sherlock turned his face back to the wall.

'You can see me,' he whispered to himself.

**Thanks for reading.**


	5. Saw Something

**Hello precious readers, reviewers &amp; followers and thank you all once again for sticking with these silly little drabbles :)**

_A/N: Still settled in the events of 'The Empty Hearse', after Sherlock and Molly left Mr Shillcot's flat. T__his chapter was very much inspired by the song 'Saw Something' by Dave Gahan. __Sorry this one turned out even shorter than the previous ones but I hope you'll enjoy!_

_Disclaimer: I do not own 'Saw Something' (written by Dave Gahan, Christian Eigner, Andrew Philpott) and I am in no way making money from mentioning it._

**Saw Something**

'Maybe it's just my type,' Molly whispered after Sherlock had left the corridor through the front door. It took her a moment to realize what had just happened. She touched her right cheek while his words still echoed in her mind.

_~ 'The one person that mattered the most.' ~ 'I hope you'll be very happy, Molly Hooper. You deserve it. After all not all the men you fall for can turn out to be sociopaths.' ~_

When she finally got ahold of herself, she stepped out into the cold winter air and inhaled it deeply. She walked on towards the pavement to see Sherlock's silhouette disappear further behind a curtain of snowflakes. She could feel her body urging to go after him, however stopped dead in her tracks. Doubts suddenly clouded her mind.

'I saw something,' she thought to herself. 'Something in your eyes that I have never seen before. I want to believe I saw a hint of regret and hurt. But you're Sherlock Holmes and I'm a ridiculous woman after all.' She frowned. 'I rather believe my decision was right. Time to grow up and be happy for real.' She took a look at her engagement ring and smiled. When she put on her gloves she finally started to walk the opposite direction.

Meanwhile Sherlock continued on his way, unable to cope with the questions rushing through his mind. What was it that he saw in Molly Hooper's eyes just before he kissed her on the cheek? Something he wasn't able to grasp or deduce from. And why did his chest feel so bloody tight?

He took off his gloves and felt his wrist. 'Elevated pulse, increased heart rate,' he mumbled to himself and started to frown.

Why was he not able to forget that look in her eyes? Why did this irrational nonsense keep his valuable mind so busy right now? His frown hardened in deep annoyance, he was close to slapping his own face.

Sherlock saw something in Molly's eyes and worst of all - he wanted it for himself.

**Thanks for reading.**_  
_


	6. If

**Hello again! As usual I'd like to give my thanks in to all you precious readers, followers and reviewers for sticking around! Sorry it took so long to update.**

_A/N: This is the last chapter which is settled in the events of 'The Empty Hearse' and set right after Sherlock saw Tom for the first time. I hope you'll enjoy!_

**If**

Sherlock quickly surveyed the young man in front of him and turned his face to John, looking like he had literally just been thunderstruck. His mind was too unsettled to deduce anything like he always did when meeting new people. Outwardly he was still his usual clinical self, yet he felt the urge to flee the room. A few seconds had passed as he finally shook Tom's hand in tense silence and then went past him and Molly through the door, leaving a gap between the couple.

John took another disbelieving but yet amused look at Tom before he followed to the stairway and closed the door behind him. 'Did you, uh...,' he failed to suppress a smirk.

'Not saying a word,' Sherlock replied while putting on his scarf.

'No, best not.' John looked back at the door as if he still couldn't believe what he'd just seen.

After the detective had tied his scarf he suddenly shrugged and let his hands fall down to his sides. Meeting the man Molly chose as her life partner, this...obvious _copy_ of himself, left him confused. He shouldn't be too surprised about the visual similarities between himself and Tom, but why did it bother him? He even felt offended, but for what reason? The scarf suddenly felt like a choke hold around his neck. He genuinely wanted Molly to be happy, so what was the problem?

'But I'm still waiting,' John interrupted his thoughts.

'Hm?'

'Why did they try and kill me?' Sherlock musingly sighed before his friend continued: 'If they knew you were onto them, why come after _me_? Put me in the bonfire?'

'I don't know...I don't like not knowing.' Sherlock didn't realize how his eyes twitched as he spoke those words. He was sincerely concerned about John's safety more than anything else, yet his reply was really referring to Molly. It was not the first time the pathologist infringed on his mind and left it in a mess. She was a distraction and being distracted annoyed him; it was unacceptable. If he would ever consider sentiment, he would have known why she was so firmly fixed on his mind. But for Sherlock Holmes sentiment was out of question.

The two men kept talking as they went down the stairs, Sherlock promising his friend that he would find out who was behind all this. As he proceeded towards the front door, John suddenly stopped at the end of the staircase.

'Don't pretend you're not enjoying this. Being back. Being a hero again.'

'Don't be stupid,' the detective dryly replied.

'You'd have to be an idiot not to see it. You love it,' John claimed.

'Love _what_?'

'Being Sherlock Holmes.'

Sherlock suddenly stared into space for a second. 'I don't even know what that's supposed to mean,' he frowned. No irony, no sarcasm; he spoke the truth. He didn't feel like a hero, not even like his proper self. The world's only consulting detective, unable to keep his mind together; for him this equalled disaster. Actually the solution to his problem immediately suggested itself – if only he would consult his emotions. If ever...

**Thanks for reading.**


	7. Into Battle

**Hello ****there ****and once again, ****t****hank you for reading, following and even favouriting ****these little drabbl****es****, ****I feel honoured, thanks so much! ****And ****also ****special thanks to ****SammyKatz ****and ****Icecat62, ****your reviews always make me smile****! :****)**

_A/N: This is settled in the events of 'The Sign Of Three'. I hope you'll enjoy!_

**Into Battle**

'So, it's the big day then!' Mrs Hudson sat in John's armchair, excitedly drumming her hands on her thighs.

Sherlock looked a tad confused as he took a sip of the tea his landlady had just served. 'What big day?' he frowned.

She raised her eyebrows in surprise. 'The wedding! John and Mary getting married.' Poor Mrs Hudson hoped to see at least a trace of an emotion from the detective, after all his best friend was about to begin a new chapter in his life.

Within a split second Sherlock started to dryly reason that there really was nothing _big_ about marriage and the two of them were divided over the impact of it.

'Well, you wouldn't understand, 'cos you always live alone,' she concluded with a hint of sadness.

Sherlock stopped raising the teacup and paused for a moment. The corner of his mouth twitched as he looked down at the cup in his hand and the steam arising from the hot tea inside. He suddenly felt like someone had just punched him in the chest. Alone indeed. John had moved out to to live with Mary and they were about to tie the knot. A rather happy occasion but to Sherlock it symbolized his loneliness. In the past he would have argued that 'alone' protects him but he has come a long way since then. As the man he had become, he missed his best friend; although he wouldn't admit it. Mostly because he knew John and Mary would worry about him and he wanted them to focus on their own happiness – he really has come a long way. But for what reason, he wondered, for what bloody reason did Molly Hooper cross his mind yet again, at _this_ very moment?

'Your husband was executed for double murder,' he started and slowly raised the cup to his mouth again, 'you're hardly an advert for companionship.' That said, he finally took another sip of tea. Although his objection was rather harsh, he had no intention to denounce his landlady in any way. It was more of a reminder to himself that marriage was indeed not worth seeking.

Mrs Hudson admonishingly looked at him. 'Marriage changes you as a person in ways that you can't imagine,' she insisted.

'As does lethal injection,' came his sarcastic reply.

When she then started to tell him how she had lost contact with her former best friend and bridesmaid after her own wedding, Sherlock felt the sudden urge to stop the discussion.

'Aren't there usually biscuits?' He got up from his armchair, hoping she would oblige but she kept on talking instead. Further attempts to usher her out failed and he started to lose his cool. 'Biscuits!' he suddenly commanded.

Mrs Hudson winced and finally got up. 'I really am going to have a word with your mother,' she complained and left through the door.

Sherlock slammed it shut behind her and exhaled sharply. He stared into space for a moment before looking at John's empty chair with a strange mixture of nostalgia and annoyance. 'Right then,' he mumbled to himself as he took off his robe and walked into his bedroom. There he looked at his neatly prepared suit; he wasn't nervous but rather wondering what awaited him on this particular day. A happy couple tying the knot and all their friends and family making a fuss about it – he wasn't sure how to handle all the sentiment he would be confronted with and wrinkled his nose at the thought of it. And then Molly Hooper came to mind, _again_. She would be there, too; with her fiancée, no doubt. What was his name again? He suddenly wondered what dress she would be wearing and how the sun would reflect off her auburn hair but then he firmly shook his head. He inwardly scolded himself, determined to find out what he still had failed to: the reason why the pathologist kept on capturing his mind. 'But not today,' he told himself and pushed the thoughts of Molly aside, locking them away in some corner of his mind. That particular day should be all about John and Mary.

Sherlock straightened his shoulders. 'Into battle.' 

* * *

Molly stared at her reflection in her bedroom mirror, straightening her yellow, sleeveless silk dress. 'Hm,' she mumbled to herself and kept turning around, hoping she looked neat enough for the occasion. John and Mary's wedding made her think about her own wedding. She had been engaged to Tom several months, but neither of them bothered to start with the planning yet; she wondered if that was a bad sign. Then she suddenly wondered how Sherlock's suit would look like, yet she was sure he would look handsome in it. She had been worried for weeks about his best man's speech, knowing he must've been struggling with it.

'Are you ready, Molly? We should get goin',' Tom suddenly called from the hallway.

'Y-yes, in a minute,' she replied and took one more look into the mirror. 'He will be alright, won't he?' she whispered to herself. 'I wonder how he must be feeling right now.' She wasn't talking about her fiancée.

'Come on now, hun, or they will start without us,' Tom laughed.

Molly shook her head and took a deep breath. 'Well, into battle then, huh?'

**Thanks for reading.**


	8. Not Healthy

**Hello there! ****A****s usual, I'd like to thank ****you ****all ****for reading &amp; following****, also for bearing with my slow updates. ****And**** thank you ****SammyKatz, ****Icecat62 ****and ****cocopops1995 ****for your lovely reviews :)**

_A/N: English is not my first language and I admittedly struggled a bit with putting the past (perfect) tense right, my apologies for any possible mistakes there._

_This is settled in the events of 'The Sign Of Three'. I hope you'll enjoy!_

**Not Healthy**

Delight, joy and pride mixed with doubt and perplexity – Molly was flushed with emotions she couldn't control. She had been joking in front of her mirror, just this morning: 'Into battle.' But it wasn't any longer about Sherlock 'fighting' sentiment or struggling with his speech.

After the detective and the newlyweds had suddenly disappeared after the toast, Molly made her own disappearance in need of some fresh air. At a quiet corner in the venue's garden she started pacing up and down the grass, trying to cope with all the unexpected emotions.

She had felt her stomach turn whenever Sherlock had talked to that bridesmaid. She had been worried for him when he hadn't known how to start his speech. She had found him endearing while he had been reading out the telegrams. She had felt heartbroken when he had admitted he'd never expected to be anybody's best friend. She had cried when he had declared his love for John. She was just so utterly proud of him, but that wasn't all.

_~ 'I used to think that's what made me special – quite frankly, I still do.' ~_

Sherlock's words still echoed in her mind and she remembered all too well how she had been fidgeting with her engagement ring and what she had thought at that precise moment. She remembered her urge to tell him that he was special indeed and that he always will be special to her.

'Damn it!' she suddenly hissed. 'This is ridiculous. I shouldn't feel this way...I mustn't!'

'You mustn't _what_?'

Molly winced and instantly turned around to see her fiancée's smiling face. 'Tom,' she gasped, 'you've made me jump.'

'Sorry, Molls.' He now frowned and came closer to take her hands into his. 'Are you alright? You've been acting a little strange all day, as if something's troubling you.'

'Oh, I...,' she saw the sincere concern in his eyes, 'I'm sorry about that, hun. I didn't mean to worry you. I'm fine, really. Just needed some fresh air.'

'Okay,' he nodded. 'And, um...why have you been talking to yourself just now?' he asked while amusedly raising his eyebrows.

'I-I...I just told myself...that I, um...that I mustn't drink any more alcohol. I felt a bit dizzy, I think I've had too much wine.' She explained and forced a weak smile.

Tom planted a gentle kiss on her forehead. 'Then you better do as you say. Too much alcohol is not healthy anyway,' he concluded as he carefully embraced her.

'Indeed,' she sighed against his chest, closing her eyes to stop the suddenly upcoming tears, 'it's not healthy.' 

* * *

'Sherlock, where are you going?' a hint of sadness echoed in her voice. Molly knew the answer already but she couldn't resist to ask, as if there was a chance he would change his mind and stay.

The detective stopped dead in his tracks but didn't turn around. 'Molly,' he sighed, but didn't sound surprised at all. 'Don't worry about me, go back inside and enjoy the rest of the evening.'

She slowly came closer until she was only an arm-length away from him. 'John and Mary would be sad if you'd leave already.'

A weak smile spread on his lips. 'John and Mary deserve to enjoy themselves now, they've had enough distractions today, they won't miss me.'

'But I will,' she suddenly blurted out and instantly regretted it. Why did she go after him anyway? Why couldn't she just turn off that low but determined voice in her head?

Sherlock finally turned around to face her and instantly got caught by her eyes – her warm, intelligent, caring eyes. It was dark but the dim light from inside the dance hall provided just enough brightness for him to see that her cheeks were flushed.

Molly just wanted to run; run away from his piercing stare, his perfect cheekbones and his soothing baritone voice. Yet she couldn't move, it felt like her feet were cemented to the ground. Why _the hell_ did she go after him?

'I-I...,' she attempted to speak but held back when she realized the words wouldn't come out smoothly. She took a deep breath and raised her chin. 'Listen, I just wanted to say: it's John and Mary's wedding, all your friends are here and just want to enjoy themselves. Why don't you come back inside and join us? I know these kind of..._events_ are not really your thing but don't you think even Sherlock Holmes' mind could need a little break, at least every now and then?' She raised her eyebrows and her lips curled into a little smile.

He just stared at her as if he was trying to read her. Only for a second he closed his eyes before his glance fixed her again. He realized that she cared for him, that she always had – he had just never paid attention or simply hadn't cared. His heart suddenly sank a little.

'Believe me, Molly Hooper, people are not able to enjoy themselves when I'm around,' he smirked and noticed she was about to protest so he directly continued: 'I am fine, Molly. You know me,' he darted an affirmative look at her. 'You don't need to worry so much...it's no advantage and not healthy either,' he half-smiled and came one step closer to her. He just couldn't help it, his thumb naturally found its way to her cheek and quickly but gently stroked it. 'You should go back inside now.' That said, he turned around to finally continue on his way out.

Molly touched her cheek as she watched him for a moment, her skin still burning where he had just touched her. 'Sherlock, wait!' she suddenly yelled and he stopped as she now came running towards him. 'Just one dance?' she panted when she finally reached him.

A deep sigh came from his lungs but how could he say no?

**Thanks for reading.**

_A/N: This scene is so not finished yet, those two should have their dance :) I'll try to update as soon as I can._


	9. Apparent

**Hello ****agai****n! ****What else can I say than thank you for reading, following and ****favouriting these drabbles****, ****it means a lot to me. ****And ****to ****SammyKatz, ****Icecat62 ****and ****cocopops1995: ****thank you ****for your ****kind**** reviews ****as always ****:)**

_A/N: This is settled in the events of __'The Sign Of Three', __directly after the last chapter__. __As much as I love waltz, I went for a slower dance for __Sherlock and Molly__. __I hope you'll enjoy!  
_  
_Disclaimer: I do not own 'The Very Thought Of You' (written by Ray Noble/performed by Janet Seidel) and I am in no way making money from mentioning it._

**Apparent**

Molly had no idea why the words had gushed out of her like they did. _'Sherlock, wait.'_ She could have just gone back inside to enjoy herself, to dance with her fiancée – who doubtlessly was already wondering what was taking her so long. She suddenly got nervous. Why did she keep coming back to _him_ like a moth to the light? _'Just once dance?' _She was certain it would burn her, rather sooner than later. 'Stupid,' she inwardly scolded herself.

Sherlock turned around with his hands still in his coat pockets and eyed the petite woman in front of him for a second. 'Well...when a lady asks for a dance, I believe one should not object,' he stated with a half-smile. The faint pop music from inside the dance hall ended and 'The Very Thought Of You' by Janet Seidel began to play. 'Shall we then, Molly Hooper?' he asked as he put out his hand to her.

'Right _here_?' she thought to herself, feeling relieved and equally taken aback. 'I...I'd love to,' she finally said and Sherlock could sense her nervousness as she put one hand into his and the other on his shoulder. To her, his skin felt the softest and his shoulders the strongest she had ever touched.

He carefully secured his other hand around her waist, firmly but gently, as he closed the distance between them almost completely; he could feel the increased tension in Molly's body as he did so. His own muscles suddenly tensed up as he looked down at her, their faces only a breath apart. Her scent, with light traces of almond and vanilla, was sweet and calming to him.

She swallowed and a shy smile crept over her lips. He automatically smiled back, unable to release his glance from her eyes as he began to lead the first steps and they were starting to slowly float over the ground in unison.

Molly hadn't been the best dancer but at this moment she was feeling weightless and secure in his arms. The steps came naturally as if her body was coalesced with his, swaying in harmony with the slow rhythm. She inhaled his scent and her mind wandered off, losing herself in the moment.

It wasn't until he carefully spun her around and softly pulled her back closely to him that she suddenly dropped her gaze to the floor. She started to realise what might have been just foreshadowed since Sherlock had returned, had now become apparent: Molly found herself torn between her love for Tom and wanting to explore the complex mind of Sherlock Holmes, the man who had come so far, who would do anything for the ones he loved. The sensation of his body against hers, his scent, his gentleness, his soft moves – her inner conflict became stronger with every step they took, she enjoyed his physical closeness more than she should be.

Sherlock could tell she had something on her mind but he refrained from inquiring as he would usually do. He didn't wish to break this oddly comfortable silence, he found his mind at peace and he allowed it to happen – to his own surprise he actually enjoyed it. Molly could feel his grasp around her waist become firmer as he continued to lead their steps in keeping with the slow jazz rhythm. He slowly spun her around once more and when he pulled her back into his arms, she smiled up at him this time as she saw a sweet, proud grin appear on his lips.

When the last tunes of the song faded out, they both slowed down and eventually came to a stop, but without releasing one another. Sherlock found himself intrigued by the ease of mind he had experienced while he had virtually absorbed every little detail of her moves, her physical reactions – and he secretly didn't wish for it to end. When the music inside changed to a more upbeat tune, he cleared his throat as he suddenly realised he was still holding her.

'Oh,' she winced as he was carefully letting go of her and took a step back. 'That...that was...nice,' was all she dared to say, although it was so much more to her. She weakly smiled, trying to hide her heavy heart.

'It was,' he stated.

His tall frame towered above her as he clasped his hands behind his back. A moment of silence passed while they were searching for words, both finding it inexplicably hard to break away from each other's company.

'Thank you, Molly.' Sherlock suddenly said and his words were spoken sincerely. His eyes were now fixed on hers and he instantly got drawn in by their warmth. He still didn't understand the full effect the pathologist had on him, why he found it so easy to open up to her or why he was often confronted with irrational thoughts or emotions when it came to her. But he knew one thing which had become more apparent over time: he truly wanted her to be happy.

'Maybe you should go back inside now,' he almost whispered, 'your fiancée must be waiting.'

Molly knew he was right but her heart still felt like it had been shattered into a million pieces. 'Yes,' she sighed. 'You really sure you don't want to,' she pointed at the dance hall behind her, 'join us?'

'I'm fine, Molly,' he reassured her.

She attempted to smile but failed. 'Alright. Um, well then...goodnight, Sherlock. And thank you for the dance.'

A small smile spread on his lips. 'My pleasure. Goodnight, Molly,' he said and finally turned around to leave.

She watched his silhouette disappear in the dark, unable to deny how much he had grown and how the depths of his soul truly touched her, more than ever before. With her firm belief in Sherlock's aversion to sentiment, she had closed this chapter in her life a long time ago, assuring herself it'd be best to move on – but her beliefs were now torn apart. She found herself confronted with the unavoidable truth and she knew what was the only right thing to do, even if it would break her heart – and Tom's.

**Thanks for reading.**


	10. Staring

**Hello ****agai****n! ****Wow, I can't believe I haven't updated in such a long time, I'm really sorry. Work had been keeping me busy and my mind ****was ****just ****blank for a ****very ****long time unfortunately. I sincerely thank you ****for ****reading, ****following****and ****favouriting, ****also**** for your patience! ****And ****to**** cocopops1995, ****Icecat62, ****elennemigo ****&amp; ****rubyred753: ****thank you ****so much ****for your ****kind**** reviews! ****3**

_A/N: This is settled __right after the last chapter, __you'll r__ecognise__ a little twist tough__. __I'll __also __explain more at the end of the chapter.__I hope you'll enjoy __reading__.  
*__Please note English is not my first language, this story is not beta'd and I still have troubles sometimes with the past perfect tense, apologies for any possible mistakes there._

**Staring**

Molly leant against the doorframe of the dance hall entrance with her arms folded in front of her chest as she stared at the spot in the distance where Sherlock's silhouette had just vanished into the darkness of the night. She bit her lower lip, trying to figure out the little 'What if'-scenario her mind had just acted out. It had painted such a clear picture that she almost wished she really _had_ called Sherlock out on leaving. The sadness she had seen in his eyes touched her soul and fuelled her desire to support and comfort him, but yet destroyed all her hopes. She had wished the romantic setting of a wedding would re-ignite that spark she and Tom had shared when they had fallen in love and for them to just enjoy this day together as a couple in joyful anticipation of their own future wedding.

But the look in Sherlock's eyes as he had made his lonely decision to leave his best friend's wedding so very early had shaken Molly to the core. She had sensed his need to be alone but at the same time doubted if being alone would really be good for him at this moment. Her concern had preyed so heavily, so dominantly on her mind that before she'd known it, she had excused herself to the bathroom but dashed outside to look for the detective instead, all while inwardly convincing herself how incredibly wrong this was.

_~ 'Well, we all do silly things.' ~___

Her own words had suddenly echoed in Molly's mind and made her stop dead in her tracks after she had just stepped outside and witnessed how Sherlock gracefully had whipped on his Belstaff and left the venue. When her imagination then had suddenly started to act out this alternate scenario she'd just been standing there since and still kept staring at the now blank spot where the detective had disappeared into the night merely a few minutes before.

Suddenly upcoming tears made her swallow. Never had Molly expected Sherlock's reappearance in her life would turn her world upside down like that but she had to recognize her over the last months slowly surfacing, or rather _re_surfacing, feelings for Sherlock couldn't be denied or suppressed anymore. She felt like the most idiotic person on earth for being too blind to figure out her feelings and it saddened her most that it was all at the cost of Tom's own feelings. She _did_ love him – but not enough. The realization weighed heavy on her heart and she knew now: no matter if she would have gone after Sherlock or not, it would end the same way.

'Tom doesn't deserve this,' she thought to herself as she tried to fight the tears. 

* * *

When Sherlock was finally able to catch a free cab, he sank into the back-seat and tried to rest his mind for a moment. He knew the caring eyes of a certain pathologist had followed him on his way out, but he hadn't been able turn around, even though he'd felt he somehow wanted to. He just _needed_ to leave. He suddenly frowned before he closed his eyes and just let his mind drift off.

_~ ~_

_'Sherlock?'_

_'Hm?'_

_The detective stood in one of the door frames that led to the dance hall, watching the guests gathering there with his hands clasped behind his back._

_'You nervous?' John smilingly asked as he joined his best friend's side._

_'Why should I be nervous?' came his calm counter question._

_'Well, the stage will be yours soon.'_

_'Having an audience listening to my violin playing doesn't alarm me,' he dryly stated. 'Aren't you nervous? Soon the dance floor will be yours.'_

_'How could I? I've had the best teacher,' John grinned._

_Sherlock's lips slowly formed a half-smile but his gaze remained frozen._

_'Um, Sherlock?'_

_'Hm?'_

_'You're staring.'_

_His half-smile suddenly disappeared. 'Certainly not. I'm observing. That's what I do. Always.' His voice wasn't as calm as before but John didn't notice._

_'I know. But right now...you're staring,' John cleared his throat. 'Well, you two seem to get along well and Janine is cute, no one blames you,' he casually added._

_Sherlock opened his mouth in surprise but closed it again quickly. He turned his face to John, then back to the dance hall. 'I'm not staring,' he calmly replied. 'You probably failed to notice that one of your guests is missing.'_

_John sighed but couldn't suppress a smile. 'I just-'_

_'Sarah Fisher, single, judging by the way she had been flirting with one of the waiters all day, she-'_

_'Sherlock!' the groom now laughed. 'I was just teasing you.'_

_'Teasing,' the detective ruminatively frowned._

_'Well, never mind,' John replied and patted his best man's shoulder. 'Won't try that again.'_

_The two men just stood side by side for a few seconds before John spoke again: 'Guess it's time, I should get Mary. Don't start without us,' he joked._

_'How would that make any sense?' Sherlock frowned again._

_'Um, won't try jokes again either, I should know better by now,' John smirked and went off to look for his bride._

_Sherlock clasped his hands behind his back again, returning his attention to the scenario at the dance hall. His glance wandered through the crowd, over to Janine and next to her it finally got stuck on a certain petite auburn-haired woman in a yellow silk dress – again. But different from before, he now instantly drew back._

_'Staring,' he hissed before he lowered his face towards the floor._

~ ~__

The car finally came to a stop but Sherlock remained seated; he didn't even move. 'Um, we've arrived, sir,' the cabbie announced and roused the detective from the depths of his mind.

Sherlock's eyes fluttered open. 'Right,' he mumbled and pulled some money out of his coat's inside pocket. 'Thanks, keep the change,' he said as he got off and before the driver could thank him, he had already shut the car door from outside.

While the cab was pulling away, Sherlock just stood on the pavement, staring at the front door of 221B. It was one of those rare moments where he found himself confused – although he had to admit those moments had recently not been so rare when it came to Molly Hopper. He wasn't really sure how to construe what his mind had just recalled and above all why it had been _this_ particular scene. Of course he could just eliminate the impossible because whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth – but was he ready for that truth?

**Thanks for reading.**

_A/N: So, the second part of chapter 8 and the whole of chapter 9 just happened in Molly's 'mindpalace' because I really liked trying to explore how Molly in canon might have felt and what she might have thought when Sherlock left the wedding – at the same time I also wanted to try writing a dance scene between Sherlock and Molly, so yeah, this was my try on this whole situation._  
_I know this is in general a slow development here but I hope you still enjoy. It might take a certain amount of time again but I'm working on the next chapters and some actual Sherlock/Molly interaction is ahead. Thank you for sticking around, it means a lot. 3_


	11. Different

**Hello ****agai****n!**** I ****know I always need ****AGES**** to update ****(literally)****, ****that's why**** I really can't say this often enough: ****I sincerely thank you ****all ****for ****still ****reading, ****following ****and ****favouriting, ****it means a lot ****to me. ****And thank ****you, ****Lovely whim, ****for your ****kind ****review :)**

_A/N: This is settled __one week after the __happenings in the__ last chapter, __I hope you'll enjoy __reading__.___

**Different**

During the last seven days Sherlock had tried his best to escape boredom while John was on his 'sex holiday' with Mary and for the sake of Mrs Hudson's wallpaper the detective had even agreed to take on cases that hadn't been worth his time, each of them a 4 at best. A lousy occupation, but different than usual he was thankful for _any_ kind of diversion. His mind was still as sharp as always but whenever he wasn't working, a certain pathologist kept creeping into his thoughts. Her scent, the way she moved, the touch of her skin, the caring look in her eyes; every detail was literally etched in his brain and flickered in his mind's eye at every available opportunity.

The detective was pacing about the flat, trying to silence his mind while hoping Lestrade would text him a great case any second, but then his gaze caught the lab equipment scattered on the kitchen table. 'Molly,' he suddenly mumbled to himself.

Much to Sherlock's discontent, his recent visits at the morgue had been anything but productive, the yield of body parts for the sake of his experiments had become unsatisfactory. With Molly taking the whole week off, her substitute had neither been as understanding nor as generous.

He suddenly picked up his mobile phone, reading through his last text conversation with the pathologist.

_**Sent 11:02 a.m.: Molly, why are you not in the morgue? SH**_

**Sent 11:02 a.m.: Your substitute is an incompetent, arrogant moron. SH**

**Sent 12:14 a.m.: Molly, are you ignoring my texts? Where are you? SH**

**Received 13:11 p.m.: Sorry that Vince had been rude to you, Sherlock, but bear with him until I'm back. I need some time to myself now, please understand. M**

Respecting her wish, Sherlock had refrained from any contact, the desire for solitude was something he could understand more than anyone else – but this was Molly after all. Why would she so suddenly close herself off like that? He didn't like not knowing. And now, six days after her last message, he couldn't deny he found himself longing for a sign from her. The current lack of a good case or experiments to occupy his brain only further reinforced her presence in his thoughts. He needed clarity. 

* * *

Molly had just sat down on her couch, taking a sip of the freshly brewed tea while she was staring at the telly, her mind blank. A sudden knock at the door made her wince and she put the tea cup down on the coffee table. Whoever it was would leave again quickly, she hoped; she rolled her eyes at the second second knock.

'Molly, I know you're home, I'm coming in.'

For a split second she froze in shock but then quickly jumped off the couch and just stood still. If she hadn't already recognized his voice, she still could have easily identified the uninvited visitor when she heard keys slowly unlocking the door – other than herself, there was only one person who had a key to her flat and she now regretted not having claimed it back after all this time.

'Sherlock,' she sighed.

The detective closed the door behind him and slowly approached her.

'Sorry for intruding like that, I kno-'

'This better be important,' she sounded annoyed, yet a certain sadness echoed in her voice. 'If you just came here because Vince refrains to-'

'No,' he interrupted her. 'Actually I...it's about...something else,' he frowned.

Molly's face suddenly froze and she instantly regretted her harsh tone. No matter what her emotional state was right now, she knew it wasn't his fault. Her feelings and the resulting consequences had to be dealt with by herself alone. Sherlock was her friend after all.

'I, uh, didn't mean to...I am sorry,' her face softened, equally did her voice. 'W-what did you want to talk about?'

It was the moment he started to eye her head to toe: she was wearing a petrol longsleeve along with grey sweatpants and pink flower-patterned socks, her hair tied up into a messy bun. Not the first time he saw her so casually dressed, yet he now found the sight rather calming for some reason. But the first thing he had noticed was something he wouldn't dare to address just now – suddenly it all made sense.

'Mh,' Sherlock cleared his throat and lowered his gaze to the floor, obviously not knowing how to start.

A few seconds had passed and Molly started to worry about how he was struggling. 'Oh my, is something wrong? Did something happen?!'

'No – no!' he finally said as he looked back up at her. 'Forgive me...I didn't mean to worry you...I...just...uh.' He lightly shook his head and she suddenly realized how different he was. The unusual hesitation when he spoke, his body language; he seemed tense. 'I...', he continued, ' I couldn't help but...wondering if you were doing well.'

Molly bit her lower lip as his gaze suddenly intensified. 'You...you came here to check if I was alright?' She certainly didn't expect this to be the reason for his visit but it touched her nonetheless.

'Actually yes,' his voice was calm, yet it was obvious his muscles tensed up a bit more. 'Since you took the whole week off so suddenly, I...I just needed to be sure everything was alright. I know you had asked for privacy and I apologise for intruding, I shall leave now if you wish to be alone.'

'No, it's...it's alright Sherlock, and thank you. I am fine, really.' She knew he could easily tell that the latter wasn't true while he was actually just grateful for the implied invitation to stay. 'Would you like some tea?'

'Oh, uh...no, thanks,' he politely declined.

As they then just kept standing in Molly's living room and silently faced each other, they both could literally feel how a certain tension was arising. One that wasn't unfamiliar between the two, one that they had been sensing almost constantly since Sherlock had returned after his faked death – but why did this tension now seem even more perceptible?

Sherlock lightly clenched his fists after a few seconds of silence had passed. 'You look different,' he then suddenly stated. The words just slipped out and he was somehow confused by his own statement, but he felt the need to break the silence; mainly to suppress this sudden urge to hold her ins his arms.

Molly swallowed hard, forcing back the upcoming tears. 'Really? How so?' A weak smile played around the corners of her mouth but faded again quickly.

He bit his lips when he realized his gaze had wandered to her hands and he instantly drew it back at her face before taking a deep breath. 'You are physically exhausted, you don't sleep enough,' he then noted in his usual deduction mode.

The pathologist sighed; her thoughts had indeed kept her awake most of the recent nights.

'And you've lost two pounds,' he continued.

'You are right,' she admitted. 'And those two pounds included my engagement ring.'

'Molly-'

'Don't make jokes, I know,' she sighed. 'Sorry, I should find a better way to cope, that wasn't really appropriate.' Being heartbroken was one thing, but causing a beloved person's heartbreak she could hardly handle, she was riven by guilt.

Sherlock's heart sank as he could hear the sadness in her voice and he looked at the floor for a moment. 'That's not what I wanted to say,' he clarified, sounding almost a little shy, as he fixed his eyes on hers again.

'I know.' She darted an acknowledging look at him. 'I, um...I just need some time but...it'll be alright, Sherlock. I know you've noticed since you'd walked in and I anyway have to get used to...admitting and eventually telling people about it.'

'I am sorry, Molly.' His words were sincere and the desire to pull her into an embrace suddenly became so unbearable that he forced himself to clasp his hands behind his back.

'Well, I...it...it's for the best. It wouldn't have worked, Tom is…,' she had to pause as she felt her eyes welling up with tears again. 'He deserves better.'

The detective suddenly raised his eyebrows, avoiding to verbalise the thought that instantly went through his head: '_Meat dagger_ is the one who deserves better? You can't be serious.'

'And thank you, Sherlock, I...I sincerely appreciate your concern, it's really kind of you to come here and check on me. I'll be fine.' As soon as she had uttered the words, she instantly felt a lump in her throat.

'Mh,' he nodded. 'Well, I'm...I'm here...for you...if you need...anything?' He automatically phrased it like a question, surprised about his own words and once they were voiced, he instantly doubted if any help coming from a sociopath like himself was welcome in such a rather emotional situation; yet he felt this pressing need to let her know that he did care about her.

Molly bit her lips and just silently stared at him. If any of her other friends would have been standing in front of her now, she would've hugged them, allowing the tears to run down her cheeks while uttering words of thankfulness, like friends would normally do. But this was Sherlock, nothing was ever normal with him – it was one of the things she loved about him, and the reason why she was all the more touched by his statement. As much as she had tried to settle for 'normal', her love for Tom wasn't deep enough, she knew that now, and one day she might be able to overcome her guilt.

'Well, I-I really should leave now,' Sherlock suddenly mumbled and shook his head as if he'd awoken from a daze. 'I just wanted to see if you were alright, you know where to find me if you need something. I guess I see you on Monday then, Molly.' He spoke and moved fast, as if he wanted to literally flee the room. But when he was reaching for the door knob, the pathologist rushed towards him, grabbed his wrist and then closed both her hands around his. He stared at her in shock first, but his face instantly softened when he saw her smile.

'Thank you, Sherlock. That really means a lot to me.' She didn't realise that she gently rubbed her thumbs over his knuckles as she spoke.

I wasn't the first time that one of her statements took him by surprise. _'I don't count,'_ he recalled her words in his mind as he felt his flesh crawl underneath her touch and then carefully released his hand from hers. 'Well, I…,' he paused and stared into her eyes once more. 'Anytime.'

'See you on Monday, Sherlock.'

He just nodded once before he finally left through the door and closed it behind him.

Merely a few moments later, as Sherlock had reached the pavement outside the house, his phone suddenly chimed with a text alert.

**Make sure to stop by at the lab tomorrow. Vince has the day shift, I'll ask him to prepare something for you. M**

Unable to suppress an acknowledging grin, Sherlock was about to continue on his way but then paused for a moment instead. As he read Molly's message once more, he felt truly relieved that he managed to make her smile at the end of their encounter. In the past he'd always accidentally used to hurt her in these kind of situations, little did he know that this would hurt himself just as much by now. He did sense that something had changed though. '_You look different_,' he had told her earlier, and he'd meant it. But it wasn't about her physical appearance that was obvious to anyone's eyes, it was about something else. The detective frowned and dazedly shook his head when another text alert suddenly rang out.

**We've found two bodies, death caused by the same type of poison. Victims are unrelated, no motive or suspects. Will you come? GL**

Sherlock's eyes lit up in excitement and he instantly hailed for a cab.

**Text me the address. SH**

As the rush of adrenaline captured him, he lost his previous trail of thoughts, or more precisely blocked it out. He pushed aside this longing to hold Molly in his arms when she was sad and the bliss he'd felt when she had smiled at him. She looked different indeed but he hadn't initially referred to obviously visible facts, he had realised that she looked different _to him_. But he wouldn't have dared to voice the thought that struck him in the first place; certainly not in this situation, maybe never. He had been too confused by his thoughts and ultimately afraid of their consequences. If he hadn't, he would not dismiss the fact that he didn't mean to tell her that she simply looked 'different' – the initial word that been on the tip of his tongue, the word he thought of first when he saw her again after these last six days, was 'beautiful'.

~ ~ ~

**Thanks for reading.**


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